


I Loved You First

by pinkwithoutplot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Male Character, Kinks, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwithoutplot/pseuds/pinkwithoutplot
Summary: Dean has such pretty blond hair. It's no wonder he's found a way to make a fast buck from his girlish looks. Trouble is, Sam doesn't want to share.





	

 

 

Through the crack in their bedroom door, Sam watches the way the way golden strands of his brother’s hair are wound tightly around the stranger’s fingers, like wedding bands, unspeakably intimate. Sam’s heart is pounding so hard he’s amazed he hasn’t been discovered yet, but he doesn’t dare let out the breath he’s holding in his burning lungs because Dean’s hair looks so soft and tousled he is sure his exhalation will disturb it, even from this distance, and he will be found out. There’s a sweetly acidic taste in his mouth and he wants to swallow (too loud) and wash it away (too dry) but he won’t.  
The apartment is quiet save for the slurping noises Dean is making as the man feeds him the thick length of his cock. The man’s head is bowed so Sam can’t see his face, his shoulders braced against the wall, his stance wide and knees bent. One hand is gripping the base of his erection as he pushes it past his brother’s lips, and the other is buried in Dean’s pretty hair, fingers raking and snaking through the blond mass, pausing now and then to stroke along his jaw line or tuck his growing-out bangs back behind his ears.  
Dean is on all fours, face tipped up towards the stranger and mouth open. His eyes are closed and there’s an almost blissful expression on his face. Dean’s naked save for a pair of tighty whities and his feet have been forced into a pair of shiny red shoes. Women’s shoes. Stilettos. Sam finds this detail possibly the most confusing thing about the whole scene, but while his upstairs brain was trying to process the fact that his big brother is sucking dick in the rented bedroom they share while he was at school and Dad is away on a hunt, his downstairs brain had got stuck on the delicious sounds being made by those plump lips and that wily, slick tongue, and now Sam’s hard and his face feels like it’s on fire and oh God! His heart is going to beat right out of his chest.  
He waits until the man starts to moan before he lets the stale air leak out slowly between his parched lips. He’s short of oxygen, and his groin is throbbing and his asshole is sort of twitching in time with the pulsing in his cock, and for a few seconds he actually feels like he might shit his pants. He wants to swallow but his tongue is thick and his throat makes a clicking noise when he tries. This is crazy. He needs to back away, just back away from the bedroom and sneak back out the front door. Dean didn’t hear him come in (he’s always saying Sammy has a stealth mode setting) so there’s no reason to think he would hear him leaving. But Sam is petrified.  
The man snags a chunk of Dean’s hair, close to the roots and tugs. Dean’s mouth comes off him with a loud sucking sound. He smiles and opens his eyes, licks his lips in a slow and deliberate version of the nervous tic Sam’s used to seeing. It makes his stomach clench.  
“On the bed,” growls the man and Dean shoots a quick look over his shoulder which makes Sam feel like he’s falling, before he crawls onto the bed, facing the headboard, ass up and legs spread, the shoes hanging from his toes. Sam can just make out the weight of his brother’s nuts and his hard on pushing out the front of his underwear and bobbing between his thighs.  
“Other way!” the man pants. “Wanna see that pretty face of yours,” and he flips Dean over like he weighs nothing and grabs his ankles in one huge hand, the shoes clacking together as he yanks Dean’s briefs off with his free hand. Dean moans and Sam shudders. He gets a quick glimpse of his brother’s hard, wet cock as it springs free and slaps the taut muscles of his tummy.  
“Whatever you want…Daddy.”  
Sam knows the man on the bed is not their father, but a wave of nausea rolls through him anyway. Sam hears the man spit and then his bulk is covering Dean’s lithe young body. Sam is no idiot. He knows men have sex with other men like they have sex with women. He knows some men take it up the ass, but any time he’s felt horny and brave enough to try sticking his finger up there, he’s found it too small and too dry to feel anything other than weird. Is his brother honestly going to let this man stick his cock inside him?  
He watches as the man tears the corner off a condom wrapper and throws it on the floor. For some reason that sends a fresh jolt of anger through him. The thought of Dean having to search on the skanky carpet for that little piece of foil before Sam got home. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Littering Sam’s bedroom. Putting his hands all over Sam’s brother.  
Dean groans and the man says,  
“oh fuck yeah,”  
and Sam’s dick starts to leak copiously into his underwear. The man’s bare ass flexes and Dean’s ankles are shoved over his broad shoulders so that his feet jounce and the shoes swing from side to side where his heels have slipped out of them with each thrust.  
Sam tries to visualise his brother’s tiny hole being forced wide open by the man’s fat dick. It makes him so mad. It must hurt. He should be running in there and pulling that bastard off Dean. But he knows deep down that Dean has consented to this – he’s moaning for it, hard for it - that it’s Sam who’s the interloper here and the thought makes his heart ache even as his cock twitches wildly and he starts to press his hips forward so he can rub himself off against the door frame.  
“You like that? Huh? My sweet girl. Like getting fucked by your daddy?”  
And Dean moans,  
“Oh yeah! Give it to me. Fuck me harder. Fuck my tight pussy.”  
Why’s he saying these things? Acting like a girl? Sam’s vision is drowning in TV static. He’s dizzy and his pelvis tilts over and over, stiff little dick slip-sliding in its own mess as he humps the wall. He doesn’t care if Dean sees now, doesn’t care if the man beats him to a bloody pulp, he just needs to come.  
Dean’s fair hair fans out across the pillow on Sam’s side of the bed as his head thrashes from side to side and he starts chanting,  
“Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me.”  
The man’s ass tightens, deep dimples appearing as he thrusts faster and faster, and one of the red patent shoes falls onto the bed and bounces off onto the floor with a dull thud.  
Dean whimpers.  
The man stills.  
“Did you just come, you little whore? Huh? Did you?”  
Sam sees than golden hair shift as his brother nods.  
“Came without a hand on you. Jesus, that’s hot. Good girl. My good little girl.” Sam watches as the man runs his hands all over Dean’s torso and bring his hand up to lick at his fingers. “Creamed yourself good.”  
He fucks into Dean a few more times before he stills and tosses his head back, drops of sweat flying off his hair and soaking into the bedspread. Sam’s bedspread.  
Dean sits up and peers over the man’s shoulder, his glassy green eyes fixing on the crack in the door, sated gaze locking with Sam’s shocked one.  
Sam comes in his pants with a knuckle jammed between his teeth to keep himself from crying out.  
He finally remembers how to move his legs, although they feel weak as a newborn foal’s, and staggers quietly away, but not before he sees the man chuck a wad of bills onto the bed.

That night, Sam watches Dean sleeping, his face slack and untroubled. He’d acted like nothing was different when Sam finally came back into the house an hour later, just carried on making a dish of mac and cheese for their dinner, and if he saw the wet spot on the front of Sam’s jeans, he didn’t let on. Sam reaches out gently and lets Dean’s silky hair slip through his fingers like water. His brother has no business being this pretty. His beauty is a lodestone and people can’t help but touch. They don’t understand that Sam was here first. That Dean is his in ways they will never understand. Dean might not let Sam put his dick in his ass (although Sam is seriously considering asking if he can sometime) but he’s full of Sam in all the ways that count. Sam’s in his thoughts, in his heart. The same blood pumps around their veins. No one else gets to have that.  
All the same, Sam hates the fact that guy (and probably countless others before him) got to see a part of Dean he never had. Except Sam has seen it now, and he can’t unsee it. He knows his brother was doing it for money. He knows about prostitution. But Sam also knows boys can’t fake it. Not like that. That guy had seen Dean raw and flushed and begging, and out of his head with pleasure, just as Sam knows all those truck-stop waitresses and high school girls have. Soft and pretty and something to be owned. All he can do is make damn sure no one else gets to see it. Not if Sam can help it.

Sam’s careful. He’s not a moron. He doesn’t tell their father the actual truth. Just plants the seed and watches as Dad’s natural obsessive streak takes hold. He has to be careful not to smile every time Dad’s dark eyes narrow and he watches some poor dude who just gave Dean a fleeting glance have to leave a diner or truck stop restroom under the cold, steely weight of John Winchester’s threatening glare.  
Even the poor near-sighted old dear in the 7-Eleven who mistakenly calls Dean ‘missy’ gets a gruff  
“He’s my son, for God’s sake! Get some new glasses!”  
The final straw comes one night when Dad takes Dean to a bar to help him with a two man hustle. Dean’s not twenty one yet, but Dad’s got him a range of fake IDs which no one in these dives bothers to look too closely at. The scamming is happening more and more often these days, Dad and Dean taking money off drunks hand over fist, while Sam gets to stay ‘home’ alone. It’s late and Sam is thinking about turning in when the front door slams open and Dean comes flying through it. He stumbles towards the couch, revealing the imposing shape of John Winchester in the hotel corridor behind him. Dean looks at Sam, and Sam sees the bruise starting to swell on his brother’s jaw. Sam thinks maybe Dad caught him hustling more than pool.  
“Bathroom. Now!” John strides into the room and kicks the door shut behind him. He’s brandishing something in his right hand. Hair clippers.  
“It was nothing! Nothing happened, Dad, I swear.”  
“I won’t tell you again, boy. Bathroom.”  
Dean wipes his mouth with his hand and takes a few deep breaths. He holds Sam’s gaze for a few moments, a question in his eyes, before he straightens up and walks slowly towards the bathroom. Sam hears an electric buzzing start up. It lasts for about ten minutes and in the deafening silence which follows, Sam wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake.  
John strides out of the bathroom first, not bothering to say goodnight before he gets into bed. Dean follows him out a few moments later. His golden hair is gone, cropped close to his scalp and looking several shades darker. Sam can’t help the little gasp which escapes him. Dean is looking everywhere but at him. The buzzcut has done little to diminish his beauty. If anything, his eyes look bigger, greener. His mouth looks even more plush and inviting. He’s less girlish, yes, but he has an edge now which makes Sam’s cock chub up in his sweats.  
“’M goin’ to bed, Sammy. Comin’?” Dean mumbles.  
Sam nods and makes it to the bathroom before he’s all the way hard.  
Dean’s lovely hair is scattered all over the linoleum. Sam bends down and picks up a thick, pale lock of it. He brings it up to his lips and feels the satiny texture of it against them. He remembers reading about Victorian mourning jewellery and how people would keep the hair of loved ones in lockets or have it woven into brooches and rings. It seems fitting somehow. This feels a lot like grief. He wonders if he’ll be able to do something similar with Dean’s hair, and slips it into his wash-bag for safekeeping while he thinks about it.  
Dean is asleep by the time Sam slides in under the covers. He waits for as long as he can bear before reaching out in the dark and feeling the soft bristles on his brother’s head.

 

 

 


End file.
